


Let it Snow

by CantSpeakFae



Series: The Scars Souvenir [23]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode Revisit + Revision, Missing Scene, Written from Xander's P.O.V
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 06:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18360110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CantSpeakFae/pseuds/CantSpeakFae
Summary: No more bad thoughts. How’s that for a new year’s resolution?





	Let it Snow

Two hours, fifteen minutes, and twenty-five seconds.   
  
That’s how much time had passed in the Harris household before the first fight broke out. It’s a new record - beating last year by two hours, and Xander has to credit the same yuletide cheer for the lasting peace in his house that, he thinks, made him suddenly feel so generous to the cause of rescuing Angel from whatever evil - literal or figurative - had been plaguing him. But even yuletide happiness can’t stop the inevitable, only delay it for a while, and Xander is heading out into his backyard at the first sound of shattered glass.   
  
The dulcid notes of a smashed wine glass is the real marker of Christmas time. Sleigh bells who?   
  
He struggles to laugh at his own joke, making a sad sound that sounds pathetic even to him, and shuffling out to the middle of the yard, setting up camp as far away as he could get while still giving himself a fighting chance to run back inside in face a suburban dwelling vampire happened to be taking a midnight walk through the backyards of Sunnydale residents and happened upon him as the perfect late-night snack.   
  
He sets his mostly untouched dinner plate down, first, hoping he won’t have to pick too many beetles out of it by the time that he finished setting up his “bed” for the night and started to unroll his threadbare sleeping bag, seeking out the most comfortable patch of grass and then kicking off his shoes so he could climb inside. It’s colder out than he was expecting. Colder out than he could ever remember Sunnydale being, even around Christmas. Usually, the holiday could go as another reason to go to the beach. What's with the frostbite threats, tonight?   
  
Just another thing to kick him while he’s down, maybe. He could go back inside, grab an extra blanket… but, no. That way lies madness and the potential to get caught in the middle of whatever knock-down, drag-out battle was taking place this time. Last year, it was about Tony owing Uncle Rory ten thousand dollars, and the year before that it was about Rory making a pass at Xander’s mom. Xander learned to stop eavesdropping pretty fast.   
  
He’ll just cover his head or something. That should help a little, right? He sits down, feelin’ around for all the necessities that he brought out with him. A stake, a vial of holy water, a comic, and a flashlight. Perfect, the gang’s all there. He picks his plate back up, surveys it for bugs, and then stabs a piece of chicken with his fork. It’s already gettin’ cold and it’s chewy. Better swallow fast before it becomes completely inedible.   
  
As he sits there, he can’t help but let his mind stray. He wonders what Buffy and Willow are doing, now. He imagines that Buffy is home, with Ms. Summers, doing their big dinner get-together thing. And Willow is probably having a quiet, not-celebrating-the-holiday dinner with her parents… or maybe by herself, since her parents aren’t always home. Maybe he shoulda gone to -   
  
No. Scratch that. Goin’ to Willow’s, right now, would feel weird. Even if they both knew nothing else was going to happen, ever, it still would be just…  
  
He wanted to say that their friendship hadn’t suffered from the fallout, but that wasn’t entirely true. Willow recoiled away from his casual touches like they burned her. And it wasn’t that Xander didn’t get it. Whatever attraction had been between them, whatever was causing those insane lusty feelings? It was gone now, completely, and left nothin’ but a sour taste in his mouth now too, but that doesn’t make it any easier to know that she can’t stand being touched by him even in a platonic way now.   
  
Plus, things are lookin’ up for her and Oz and that’s… that’s just uh… great.   
  
And unfair, if he’s being honest with himself. He shouldn’t think it, but he does. A little. In a dark, bitter place in his mind. He feels like he’s the only one who really lost anything in the aftermath. He lost Cordy, and he lost his friendship with Oz, and he thinks that he lost part of Willow, forever.   
  
And he’s really cold.   
  
He shivers and tries to shove those thoughts out of his head, picking up his comic book. Those aren’t fair thoughts. Those are bad thoughts - he’s tryin’ to quit bad thoughts. Tryin’ to quit petty and selfishness, because all it does is hurt the people he cares about.   
  
He can’t turn into Tony. He can’t ruin everything he touches just because he’s so engulfed in self-hatred that he has to turn it into hating everything and everyone around him just to have an outlet for it. No more bad thoughts. How’s that for a new year’s resolution?   
  


* * *

  
Xander doesn’t remember falling asleep.   
  
He remembers reading, but then he’s suddenly freezing. There’s something cold on his head and he pushes back the sleeping bag and sits upright, blinking at all the white stuff that’s surrounding him. For a second, he can’t fathom what the heck is goin’ on or what it is… but then it suddenly clicks.   
  
Snow.  
  
It’s snowing.   
  
Snowing in SUNNYDALE. Is this a miracle or the sign of another apocalypse?   
  
Xander sits up straighter, and stairs up in wonder. He can’t remember the last time he saw real snow. And he reaches out, holding out his palm to try and catch a few flakes. He does, but they melt as soon as they touch his skin and he stares at the watery residue, wondering if he should go back inside. Snow is cold, right? He's gonna get cold.   
  
He turns his head and looks at the backdoor, debating.   
  
Then, he lies back down and shoves himself as far down into the sleeping bag as he can, pulling it over his head and curling up into a little ball. Maybe the snow is a sign that things are going to get a little more miraculous around here, or maybe it's a sign that the world's gonna end... but no miracle, hell, or cold can force him back into his house.   
  
And that's thought that keeps him up for most of the rest of the night, shivering in the cold. He _has_ to get out of this place. One way or another.


End file.
